


dapjeongneo (답정너)

by cruelzy



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: ???? pftsgska, F/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 22:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelzy/pseuds/cruelzy
Summary: Whatever’s really going on, you have no clue, but it’s abundantly clear that Peter thinks you know something you don’t.





	dapjeongneo (답정너)

**Author's Note:**

> _— korean: when somebody has already decided the answer they want to hear after asking a question and are waiting for you to say that exact answer_

Peter Parker is strange. 

Thing is though, everyone’s strange. 

High school holds a cesspool of hormone infested teenagers, spectrum such a wide variety of quiet-tall-short-odd-chaotic-coy that Peter is merely another blinking sign swallowed in a hectic downtown city. He has his oddities, yes, but you have your own secrets. 

Nevermind the fact that you wouldn’t judge him, you don’t even know the dude. He’s an acquaintance at most, and that’s a stretch. The deepest you’ve ever thought of the brunette was probably “hey, cool shoes." 

So _why_ was he so interested in _you_?

It’s been a whole month since that fateful chemistry class. The doomed interaction went like this: Peter Parker stood as the bell rung, gathered his things, then whirled round on his heels like a spinning top. He took a moment to eye the area above your nose, likely trying very hard to recall your name, before he gave up altogether and asked, "why were you staring at me?” And you, instead of admitting that you’d merely gazed off into space, snatched the chance to be difficult and said, “because you’re strange.”

Fast forward to several weeks later, and Peter has become _aware_ of you. 

Whereas before you’d been blissfully ignorant of each other, now he has sprinted to the other extreme: righteously avoiding your presence. The apprehension was subtle at first, but it only grew more intense as time progressed—piercing stares when he thinks you aren’t looking, hasty retreats if you’re caught in the same room. He wouldn’t touch you if he had a ten foot pole.

Whatever’s really going on, you have no clue, but it’s abundantly clear that Peter thinks you know something you don’t.

Ironically enough, his attitude only makes you more attentive. You begin to truly take notice of the awkward boy with the generic haircut in your fourth period. Discoveries come quick. For one, Peter Parker is smart. 

No, but, _smart_.

You’d known he was slightly above average intellect, but with your new ear tuning into his every move, you realize that this boy isn’t only on a whole other level than you, he’s not even in the same _category_. Parker is antsy. _Alot_. Constantly mumbling to himself in jitters, switching unpredictably between clumsy fumbling and razor-sharp precision and flashing tiny fevered smiles when caught, eyes dark, bruised, as if he were an insomniac.

He’s weird, sure. Could be dealing crack in the bathroom for all you know, so really, he’s just a normal dude. And for some reason, it irritates you.

Day thirty-nine of your growing obsession with Peter Parker, the school is put under lockdown. Principal comes on briefly over the intercom to assure that it’s a normal “drill,” and that the sudden power cut is “nothing to worry about,” but you know better than that. Nothing in this godforsaken city was ever normal. Several students are already whipping out their phones, ready to record, as if Tony Stark was about to burst through the very wall in the midst of a mortal fight with the Halk. Hulk. Whatever. You don’t know or care. 

Peter, because you’re always conscious of him now, is a little too still across the room. He glances at you briefly before turning _—_ and _great_ , he’s pulled his _friend_ into it, for the two of them dissolve into furious whispering, as if one wrong word revealed and you’d pull out a rifle and snipe them from your plastic chair. Somewhere midst him engaging in code, Peter must have reached a decision. He crosses the room silently, coming to a smooth crouch besides you in the dark. He tugs your sleeve.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Lord.

“Yes?” You ask out of courtesy, minutely occupied with trying not to have a seizure from the fingers grazing the skin of your bicep. You’re not _blind_ , Peter is _attractive_. 

“Can I—well I mean—” he stumbles over his words, “I need to ask you something.”

“Picked a dangerous time to have a serious conversation,” you joke. 

He doesn’t look all too concerned with the blackout. Truth be told, Peter doesn’t look scared at all; he is oddly _excited_ , fumbling with his hands, skin clammy and cold where he last touched you. He shivers, once, biting his lip so hard you fear he’ll draw blood.

“Danger,” says Peter. “Yes.”

You reluctantly admit to yourself that the boy may be a little more than just strange. 

“Well lay it out on me.”

Peter opens his mouth. 

Peter jerks abruptly, spine as taught as a rope, then _shoves_ forward faster than you can blink, wrenching you roughly to the floor and sending the chair flying—

“ _Get down!_ ”

* * *

There was an explosion. 

Nothing too serious, and nothing too supernatural either, moreso the makings of an electrical mishap in the ceiling that was apparently enough to shatter every light and set the room on fire. You never really noticed how big your class actually was until everyone and their mother was trying to escape through one doorway. 

In the chaos, you lose Peter. You don’t see him again the rest of that week, or the next. 

Saturday morning has you rising from your plush sofa to angrily answer the _incessant_ doorbell. You open the door, cereal in hand, insult-arsenal primed and ready for the unlucky soul on the other side.

“Hi,” says Peter.

Your soggy cheerios nearly fall out of your mouth.

“It’s me,” he continues quickly. “Well obviously you knew that. I found your address—you dropped your notebook the other day and your address was written on the inside—so I came to give it back to you. Well that’s not really the reason I came, I would have waited until school but I actually—oh! Also I called your parents to tell them I was coming so it’s not weird—”

“ _What happened_?”

Whatever he’s saying cannot be more important than the _bulldozer_ that must have hit him. His left eye is black and blue, and there’s a swath of bandages covering his knuckles, shredded skin peeking from underneath. 

“Ha!” Peter laughs, way too sharp for your neighbourhood at nine in the morning. “Aha ha!" 

He looks like he’d rather be _anywhere_ but there at the moment, bubbling over with anxiety. ” _This?_ Don’t worry about it. I’ll be better by Monday. I uh, heal fast. But that’s not important.“

His collar is ruffled and his electric eyes are still, well, electric, as he shifts, speaking your name firmly. You wait with baited breath. 

"Tell me the truth,” Peter says. “Why were you staring at me?" 

Tell him the truth? 

From the bottom of your heart, you have never wanted to be in on something more than you do right now. 

You consider your options. You have no idea what terrible secret Peter is keeping. Frankly, it’s terrifying. He may have no interest in you whatsoever after this, and as such, this may very well be the end of your tug-of-war. But what would be the alternative? 

You swallow. He watches you with earnest eyes.

"Because you’re strange,” you say. 

Peter blinks.

He shuts down.

He visibly reboots, slowly lifting a palm to cover his face and laughing into it.

“You don’t..” Or crying. “You don’t know…”

“…Peter?”

He inhales quickly. “Would you like to go out with me?”

_“I’m sorry?”_

He meets your eyes, flustered. “I don’t mean go _out_ , unless you want it to mean that way, but I know a good burger place on Main if you want to check it out today? Well, they don’t only sell burgers. I don’t really know what you eat but there’s definitely other stuff there too if you’re vegetarian or something, that's totally cool, it’s just that I never see you at lunch and I can’t tell with just the cereal—”

“Peter.”

“Yes?”

_“Yes.”_

**Author's Note:**

> its michael jackson _heehee_


End file.
